


this is how i lose you

by alekszova



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Pining, thanks.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24348670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova
Summary: Buck hasn't quite gotten over the tsunami. He hasn't quite gotten over the fact he's in love with Eddie, either.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 441





	this is how i lose you

It started the day of the tsunami. Technically, in retrospect, it started before, but Buck didn't notice until the day of the tsunami. Buck tries to look back before that day and see the signs but he can't. He can only remember the times they laughed together, smiled, drank, hung out. Stupid basic stuff that friends do. But they weren't basic friends. Buck always knew that. Eddie wasn't like the kids in school or the people he'd go out drinking with. He was always different.

But he didn't realize _how_ until the day of the tsunami.

It wasn't losing Christopher. In the moments he was missing Eddie wasn't really in his thoughts. Not in that way. Not in any other way than how much he was disappointing and letting down the only person that helped ease the loneliness and the pain of existing. Even those thoughts weren't strong enough to overcome the fear of losing Christopher. Though in the time they were safe, waiting with all those other people. When he was trying his best to find distractions and playing games, he was thinking about Eddie. In the back of his mind, Buck was praying for the moment that they would see him again.

It wasn't until after. The split second that he saw Eddie and he wanted to step forward and collapse against him and stop running. But he couldn't. He couldn't even when Eddie stepped away from him and saw Christopher being helped by those strangers. He hadn't realized how much he had wanted Eddie to run towards him and hold onto him like that.

And that's when he realized it.

Watching Eddie's relief fill him up, holding onto his kid in the middle of a disaster. Maybe it was the blood or the water or the death everywhere. Maybe it was the worry. Maybe it was the good--when he had managed to finally get something positive in all of this.

That's when Buck realized he was in love with Eddie Diaz.

  
  


It's ruining everything.

Buck never wanted to love him like this. He never wanted to feel this way. He hates it. It's like torture--caring about someone like this. Caring about a friend like this. Buck always operated off the thought that being honest about feelings was the best option. In school, growing up, he told any girl he liked that he liked them. What was there to lose? He might feel bad for a brief time while the rejection stung but in the end it was always for the best. Knowing was always for the best.

But how do you risk it?

How do you justify it?

Ruining a friendship like this--

How does someone do it?

It was different for the girl in his senior year who had been his best friend that year. It was different for Abby. They were friends but he never cared for them like he cares for Eddie. Eddie showed him that he never had a real ride or die best friend.

Now he's just supposed to throw that away and tell him the truth just to avoid being a hypocrite? No. Buck would rather think of himself as the love-struck idiot in a dead end unrequited crush than get his heart broken another time and lose another person that he cares about as much as Eddie.

And it wouldn't work even if they did get together. It's already a struggle seeing Eddie do stupid things out in the field. He trusts Eddie. He believes in him. He knows how good and smart he is but sometimes he runs into a burning building two seconds from collapsing and Buck gets this feeling like it's going to be the last time. He gets that same fear and worry he has seen on countless spouses and significant others faces. It's the same stupid feeling that makes him want to run after Eddie and pull him out of it and protect him instead of whatever person actually needs help.

He doesn't like it. He hates it. Buck is not someone that can't trust that Eddie can't take care of himself. He knows he can. That's the problem sometimes. It just reinforces how little he's necessary here. How he only causes problems and doesn't solve them.

  
  


Buck needs to get over him. It's the only way to fix this. Get over Eddie before he ever finds out. Rescue the shreds of their friendship as though loving him this way is a betrayal.

He finds a pretty girl at a club and dances with her to an EDM song he'd loathe to admit he loves. He kisses her when the lights go low. A purple glow casting shiny sparkles across her features where the glitter is stuck to her cheeks. They have sex in the club bathroom pressed against the dirty plastic walls of the last stall in the row. When he gets home he noticed the glitter on his own skin, rubbed off where she pressed her face against his neck and left a line of kisses on his throat. He showered three times, scrubbing at his skin, trying to erase the evidence of it.

It doesn't help.

It doesn't help sleeping with the girl and it doesn't help going to a bar three weeks later and buying a guy a drink and climbing onto his lap in the back seat of his car, either. It doesn't help when he clings onto him, hands threaded into his hair, and catches the scent of shampoo that he knows belongs to Eddie because he's used it before, because they've wrestled and because they've been pushed close together, because Buck has accidentally accumulated all these facts about Eddie and he doesn't know what to do with it except hate himself for pretending for a moment that this stranger inside of him with hands on his hips and teeth grazing his shoulder is Eddie.

He goes home. He showers three times but instead of trying to get glitter off of him it's trying to erase the shame of everything down the drain.

_And it doesn't help._

  
  


He doesn't have a right to be jealous of the teacher, but he is. He listens to Eddie complain about her and then fawn over her and then he listens to the way he talks about possible dates and all he can think of is--

_Does he see?_

Does he see the look on Buck's face or is he getting better at hiding how much he wishes Eddie would talk about him like that? Does he notice when Buck changes the topic to something else? Does he notice that Buck makes the same lopsided smile, the same dreamy look in his eye that Eddie gets for her?

Maybe not.

It took Buck a year to realize he did. Why would Eddie?

  
  


"I don't think it's going to work out with Ana,” Eddie says, sitting down beside him on the couch, stealing the controller from his hands. Buck doesn’t say anything about it. The words have knocked it out of him.

"Why?"

"She's Christopher's teacher. It's weird, isn't it?"

_Maybe._

"She won't be next year, right?" Buck asks, going against what he really wants to say to help cover up everything inside. "And school is almost done."

"Yeah… I don't know. There's always that stage, you know?” Eddie says. “When you're dating someone and you have to evaluate whether or not they'll be someone that can let you have this job."

"You don't think Ana will let you be a firefighter?"

"I don't know. She's a teacher. It's… just different. But we click, you know?" He sighs. "Nevermind. It's fine."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. I made up my mind already. This is all just too hard. How did Chimney get so lucky finding someone who he wouldn't have to worry about leaving him whenever there's a tragedy?"

"Maybe we all just need 911 operators to date. I can hook you up with Maddie friend," Buck says with a smile, pretending another day in a long list of days that Abby hadn’t walked into his life and been the exact opposite of what Maddie is for Chimney. "He's pretty cute."

"Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"You're the only man for me. Nobody else will take your place."

He knows it's a joke. He knows Eddie is just teasing him. Those kind of playful romantic jokes that used to be just that. _Jokes_. But hearing Eddie say it like that--

It makes his heart stop for a moment.

  
  


Abby flies through his life. It revitalizes every part of him that thought he was okay. Buck feels broken again. Worthless in the way that happens whenever someone runs away from him. The same kind of pain of feeling like he isn't good enough, has never been good enough, will never be good enough.

He doesn't love her. He doesn't care about her that way anymore. But he still feels that crushing feeling again about how wrong he was for her and how wrong he always feels. The pain of being left behind never really leaves. There's some type of irony in that, he thinks.

Buck tries to distract himself. With the party at the station, with his job, with taking care of the people that need his help, being with the people he loves. Including Eddie. Mostly Eddie.

It helps.

But Christopher leaves. Summer camp. And it's exciting and fun for him. Buck knows that. He leaves and for a moment it's strange because of the missing person in his trio and then it's strange because there is no buffer from these thoughts in his head.

And it doesn't help at all being alone like this with Eddie.

  
  


“You can stay. If you want.”

“What?”

“You can stay here tonight. You don’t have to go home if you don’t want to.”

Buck smiles softly to himself. Thinks of curling up on Eddie’s couch like he has already done a dozen times before. The offer is always there. Maybe not explicitly said, but he’s always been allowed to crash here.

“You’re only asking because it’s quiet with Christopher gone, aren’t you?” he says.

“Maybe,” Eddie laughs. “No, I mean… if it was just about filling in the quiet I’d pick anyone.”

“But you’re specifically picking me?”

“Yeah.”

He hides his smile behind the bottle in his hand, “Okay then.”

  
  


Eddie loans him a shirt and pants to sleep in. It feels weird. Like every part where the fabric touches his skin is setting it alight with this wave of electricity he’s never felt before. Whenever he thinks about it, he feels butterflies in his stomach. Young and stupid again, though maybe he never grew out of it. Maybe it’s just been a while since he’s ever cared about someone like this before.

It was most certainly different with Abby. It didn’t feel new and precious. It didn’t feel like he was going to lose anything by saying how he felt. He went into that friendship telling her from the beginning that there was a possibility between them. Maybe not soon, but an eventuality.

With Eddie it’s different.

It’s the opposite.

It’s not a _someday,_ it’s a _never._

  
  


Buck doesn’t cry often. He doesn’t like crying. It’s not something he does. But some days everything is just too much. People die. They don’t get there in time or there’s nothing they can do but watch the light leave someone’s eyes before they even have the chance of getting them free. It happens. These things happen. They build up more and more until the day ends with so much death and so much pain that it blurs into his own and everything is a long twisting thing that comes around and around again. Recycling it all back to be as fresh as it was before.

So Buck cries. He goes to his place and doesn’t answer the texts on his phone and he doesn’t turn the light on or bother eating, he just drifts down into the dark in his bed, pulling the covers around him tightly, squeezing his eyes shut in the hopes that sleep will come before the crying does, but as always, nothing happens the way he wants it to.

His chest hurts and his lungs struggle for air and he tries to keep it all quiet, tampered down into nothing, as though the silence will somehow make it all hurt less when it seems to only make it hurt more.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

He doesn’t remember the crying stopping.

But he remembers the water in his dreams, pulling him down, further and further away from anyone and everyone that could use his help. He’s drifting, pulled by the current, pulled down into the darkness, everything washed away with salty water on his tongue.

  
  


“Are you okay?”

“What?” Buck asks, taken aback. “Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been acting weird. Do you need to talk?”

“If I needed to talk. I would talk.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Eddie says. “Come on. Let’s talk.”

And what is he supposed to say?

What is he ever supposed to say?

The truth? A lie? A different truth than the one that has been bothering him the most? Take his pick at the hundred problems that exist on the surface of it all?

"Eddie--"

"Buck."

He clenches his jaw, looks away to the dark space of the asphalt between their cars. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

Buck leans back against the car, crossing his arms over his chest, "Is there even enough time for it all?"

"Doesn't all have to happen in one night, Buck. That's not always how it works," he reaches out, touching Buck's arm lightly. "If you don't want to talk tonight, that’s fine, but can you just tell me why?"

Eddie's hand is still on his arm. Still touching him softly. The gentle caress of his thumb across his bare skin.

_Why can't you just tell me?_

_Because I'll lose everything._

"It's been long enough, hasn't it?" Buck says. "I don't have a right to be upset anymore."

"About the tsunami?"

He nods, "It was months ago."

"Buck…"

He steps forward. He doesn't know why he does it. He means to step away. He means to get Eddie to stop touching him but instead he moves closer and Eddie's hand moves to rest against his upper arm, pulling him a little closer.

"I know it doesn't work like that," he says quietly. "I know trauma doesn't disappear but everyone I love is okay. I'm okay. But I still have dreams. I still worry that it will happen again and everyone is…"

"Going to die?"

He nods, "I can't lose anymore people, Eddie."

“Who says you’re going to lose anyone?”

Nobody. But the possibility is still there. It’s always there. They see it a hundred times a day. Things happen that suggest the end. Heart attacks and collapsed buildings and car crashes. Things they don’t see coming.

A tsunami isn’t exactly the way, but there are a hundred other ways, too.

There are always a hundred ways the people he loves can disappear right out from under him, and death is just the tip of the iceberg. His own sister ran away. Even if Maddie came back, what’s stopping anyone else from leaving, too?

“Come to the pier with me.”

“What?”

“We don’t have work tomorrow and that’s where you were when it happened, maybe it’ll help to go back. They’ve repaired most of it. It’s open again. Might not be as fun as it used to be, but you should go.”

He’s quiet, pretending that his hands packing and double checking the contents of his bag is keeping him from responding. He doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t know how to say no and he doesn’t know how to say yes. It’s always going to be like this. It’s always going to feel like it’s impossible to talk about something no matter how much he wants to.

“You’re not alone,” Eddie says quietly. “I’ll be there the entire time. And if you don’t want to go, then at least come for me.”

“For you?” Buck says, glancing up.

“Yeah. You think you’re the only one terrified of that place?”

_Right._

Of course.

That’s where Christopher went missing. That’s where it all happened. That’s where so much bad stemmed from. Eddie doesn’t have to be present when the first wave hit to still associate the pier with the tsunami.

“Okay. I’ll go. For you.”

Eddie smiles, “Good. I’ll pick you up.”

  
  


It’s strange and awkward and Buck can’t tell where it begins and where it ends. Just that there is always this layer of something that’s not quite right when they arrive at the pier. Sometimes, he forgets how close he is to the water. Sometimes he gets distracted by the games Eddie drags him around to play and the strange feeling in his chest is devoted whole heartedly to how much this feels like a date, down to the moment when Eddie wins a tiny beanie baby bear and he hands it out to Buck like it’s his when he thought Eddie was going to save it for Christopher.

But other times, his gaze wanders out towards the water, to where it crests against the sand and he remembers what it looks like with the water drawn so far out, with the wave so large, so calculatingly destructive in the horizon.

“Buck?”

“Hm?” he says, turning away, trying to ease the too-fast beat of his heart.

“Ferris wheel next?”

“Sure.”

  
  


It’s a mini domino effect. There’s a woman in line with her child, who stumbles forward and the man in front of her moves out of the way, bumping into his friend who bumps into Eddie, who falls forward against Buck’s chest, close against him where he hesitates a moment, but the moment is long enough to catch that familiar scent of cologne he rarely wears cutting through the scent of carnival food and salty air.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, moving back, but the damage is done.

Buck is back to thinking about how nice it would be to hold his hand while they wait in line, to press a kiss against his temple, to waste time waiting here being able to hold onto him and distract himself from the sticky summer heat and the fear inside of him.

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah?” he says. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Because you’re always fine. Because you’ll never admit to anything bothering you. Not even something small.”

“Because it’s small. Because it doesn’t matter,” he looks around the line of strangers. “Do you really want to have an argument where a bunch of people are going to eavesdrop on us?”

Eddie shakes his head. Annoyance fills his gaze as he steps back close to Buck again, leaning up and speaking in a low voice against his ear, “You’re going to hurt yourself like this. Always pretending everything is okay. Never saying anything. Just talk to me.”

“You bumped me, Eddie. It’s fine.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

The line surges forward, Buck moves away from him, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the metal fences dividing the line, keeping himself angled in a way that makes it hard for Eddie to get back into his face like that. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Everything and anything that could possibly kill him is killing him right now.

  
  


They sit beside each other in their pod, Buck keeps his gaze on his feet, looking at the metal flooring and the welding of the seats to the base. He watches Eddie’s feet as they tap out a beat quietly before they start to ascend upwards.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me.”

“Come on, Buck, I’m not stupid,” Eddie says. “I’m just worried about you. I know what it’s like to be told to get over things. I know what it’s like to be raised to not be open about your feelings. It’ll tear you apart. Trust me. What you’re going through, your trauma, it’s not a burden to share it with others.”

“Okay.”

“So can you talk to me about it?”

He nods, slowly, unsure if he believes himself, “Do I have to do it right now?”

“No.”

“Good,” he says quietly. “And… Eddie.”

“What?”

“What if that’s not all of it? What if… the tsunami isn’t everything?”

“You can talk to me about other stuff. It doesn’t have to be the tsunami.”

“And if I can’t?” Buck asks.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“There are certain things I can’t tell you about,” he says quietly. “THings that might ruin our friendship. Am i supposed to just ruin it?”

“What are you so scared of, Buck?”

_Everything, everything._

“Buck. Can you look at me?”

He doesn’t budge. He can’t. He’s afraid of what’ll happen.

_“Buck,”_ Eddie whispers. He can feel Eddie move closer. Then, a hand on his cheek, tipping his chin up, forcing him to look over. “Buck?”

And it’s that--

That stupid expression he makes. This soft concern. This thing that Buck has seen a hundred times before and hated the way people looked at him like he couldn’t handle himself. This expression that kills him because he’ll be fine, he’s always fine, he’ll always be fine--

But when Eddie looks at him like that it doesn’t feel like forced pity. It doesn’t feel like an obligation to worry about him. It just feels real.

And Buck is so stupid and he moves forward and he leans close to Eddie and he kisses him despite knowing how stupid he is being but not being able to stop himself. This impulsive need to take, take, take and never give back.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop, their seat overlooking the pier but Buck doesn’t look away from Eddie at all when he pulls away. He can’t. He is trying his hardest to read Eddie’s expression but he can’t.

“You asked me what I was afraid of,” he says quietly. “It’s this.”

“Why?”

“Because this is how I lose you.”

“Oh,” Eddie says with a quiet laugh. “You think this is how you lose me?”

“Eddie, it’s not a joke--”

“No. It’s not,” he moves forward, catching Buck’s lips with his own, pulling him back closer again. 

And this time Buck feels a smile against his lips when Eddie kisses him and just like that, just like it’s always been, that smile is so infectious he has one of his own.

  
  


_It’s not._

_It’s not a joke._

_You’re not going to lose me._

  
  


Buck doesn’t know how to believe it. He doesn’t know how to trust those words. Every time Eddie kisses him it feels like it’s the first and last time. Both wound together like everything up until now was a dream and everything after is a nightmare.

The first few weeks they keep it quiet. Testing out the waters. Going on real dates before realizing that maybe whatever they were doing before was a lot more comfortable and a lot better, just with added kisses thrown into the mix.

They don’t decide on a big announcement together. They decide to let things show slowly. Not the dramatic kiss that Bobby and Athena shared but something smaller. Sitting beside each other at the table, holding hands underneath it, sitting and standing too closely. Eddie with his arm draped over Buck’s shoulder when they walk in. Buck’s hand wrapped around his waist when they walk out.

Little tiny things that feel big and hard to believe. Little tiny things that might avoid the drama that was unfolded before, but it still happens. The others still make a big deal with Eddie kisses his cheek automatically when they part ways once, and an even bigger deal when they’re caught kissing in the changing room when they’re supposed to be packing up to leave.

But it’s good.

It’s nice.

He still worries--

He still doesn’t know how to believe it.

But he’s getting a little closer every day.


End file.
